Hearts on the Line
by kmeerkat
Summary: ...and all it took was a little owl to bring them together. Both Hermione and Draco correspond to each other anonymously as a part of a correspondence "pen pal" like system designed to help heal anyone dealing from post-war troubles. Broken hearts are hard to mend, but help can come from the most unexpected of people.
1. I'll Write You a Letter

_Hello, readers! This story takes place after the 7th Harry Potter book EXCLUDING the epilogue. Hope you all enjoy! _

_-Kmeerkat_

* * *

"Give it a shot. What's the worst that could happen?"

Hermione rolled her eyes at Harry, but tentatively outstretched her arm towards the owl perched on Harry's arm.

It gave a small "hoot," and took a few small jumps onto Hermione's arm.

"What's his name then, anyway?" Hermione asked, warming up to the speckled owl staring up at her with curious round eyes.

"Iggy," Harry responded, and the owl cocked its head in his direction.

Hermione let out a defeated sigh.

"I just feel…stupid," she admitted. "I know you're concerned for my mental health Harry, and I'm grateful for that, but I really don't think writing to an anonymous stranger via owl is going to help me cope with my…'depression'…in any way."

"Hermione, this is a program that actually _works_," Harry explained. "You're not alone. So many people have been left scared by the war. Sometimes it just helps to talk. Especially to someone who might know exactly what you're going through. You haven't opened up to any of us, not me…not even Ginny. We just don't know how else to help you."

Hermione sat with a glum expression on her face. He was right, of course. She felt beyond help. It had almost been two years since the Final Battle. Which meant it had been almost exactly one year since Ron died on the most tragic day of their lives - their wedding day.

It had gotten to the point where she had quit her new job at the magical law enforcement offices only a few months earlier. Hermione had shut herself off from the world. From all of her friends and family. Nowadays she sat consumed in her books, letting the stories take her a way to a world that was far different than her own.

Hermione sighed again as her gaze fell on the ugly scar on her wrist. The word "_mudblood" _glared angrily up at her. She flinched instinctively and flipped her wrist.

The movement did not go unnoticed by Harry.

"You know we're trying as hard as we can to change all of this," Harry began. "Fighting against Voldemort was one thing. Fighting against years of prejudice, discrimination, and hate against muggleborns…that's another. "

"I know," Hermione responded coldly and in a manner that signaled she didn't wish to continue down that path of conversation.

Harry flinched at her tone. "I'm sorry," he said, his tone comforting and sincere. "You know I love you. We all do. And we're just trying to help."

Hermione smiled slightly and looked up at her friend. "Thanks, Harry."

He smiled back at her. "So you'll take the owl and give it a shot then? I've heard fantastic things about the Hearts on the Line correspondence system, really," Harry gushed.

"Yes, I suppose I'll give it a shot, just to make you happy," Hermione responded with a playful eye-roll as her tiny owl bounced up her arm to sit on her shoulder. "How exactly does this work though?"

"It's not complicated in the slightest," Harry explained. "You know sort of how a pen pal works, in the muggle world?"

Hermione nodded her head yes.

"Well, it's like that, only you'll both remain completely anonymous," said Harry. "You can write about whatever you like, whatever's on your mind, and attach your letter to Iggy here."

Iggy gave a small hoot at hearing his name.

"Only your owl knows the identity and location of the two 'Hearts on the Line,' or the two people corresponding to each other. He'll fly out your first letter to whomever the agency has randomly selected to pair you with," Harry explained further. "Then your owl will stay with that person while he or she writes their letter back to you. Simple, right? And it just continues on like that, with Iggy delivering your letters."

"Do you have to be anonymous?" Hermione asked.

"No, I suppose you don't, but most people opt for that," said Harry. "If you want to introduce yourself in your letters with your real name, I suppose you can. The agency just likes to set it up that way because, usually, people are more comfortable confiding in someone they know won't judge them based upon who they think they're talking to."

"That…makes sense," Hermione said softly. She was actually warming up to the idea. She smiled and threw her arms around Harry in a hug, causing Iggy to flutter away towards the mantle of her fireplace.

"You're welcome?" Harry laughed with uncertainty as he pulled back to look his friend in the eyes.

Hermione laughed at him, thinking he must surely have thought she finally lost it. It was probably the first time she had shown any type of positive emotion in months. It was definitely the first time she'd hugged him in a while. "Thank you, Harry. I'll try this correspondence deal. What have I got to lose?"

After walking Harry to the door of her flat and seeing him out, Hermione softly closed the door behind her and went in search of her new owl.

"Hello there, little guy," she cooed at Iggy, who was perched on the windowsill in her living room. She tentatively reached out to stroke the feathers atop his head. "We'll have to get you a nice little perch to sit on while you're staying here. And plenty of food."

As if understanding her, Iggy hooted in agreement and fluttered his wings.

Hermione turned and walked down the hall to her study, stopping warily in front of the door. It had been a while since she'd used this room. She hadn't needed it since she quit her job. She steadied herself and then slowly opened the creaking door.

The small study was cluttered with papers and books, very unlike her usual neat and tidy self. She had never bothered to clean it after the day Ron had died or any day since. She supposed now that was why she had ended up locking it and never using it again after she quit her job. It got so cluttered that she eventually abandoned the whole room all together.

Hermione navigated her way towards her desk, pulled out the chair and sat down. She centered a piece of parchment on the table and grabbed a quill from the drawer. As she was millimeters away from touching pen to paper, a small, silver-framed picture on the desktop caught her eye.

It was a moving photo of her and Ron. An engagement photo. The Hermione in the photo was doubled over laughing as Ron tickled her sides from behind. Photo-Hermione smiled as she playfully nudged away Ron, who was attempting to kiss her in apologies for tickling her. Finally photo-Hermione gave in and allowed the kiss, before they each turned and smiled for the flash of the camera.

Hermione swallowed the lump forming in her throat and closed her eyes for a brief moment. Maybe this was the real reason why she had stopped coming into this room.

"I'm sorry, love," she whispered, opening her eyes and gently turning down the picture.

She breathed out a heavy sigh, pushed the oncoming rush of memories and regrets out of her head, and picked up the quill again.

It took her a few moments, uncertain of what to say, or where to begin. There was so much to say, so much she wasn't sure if she even wanted to say, and so much that could easily be left unsaid.

Could she really pour her heart out to a stranger? She wasn't sure. But she knew that she didn't have to today. Maybe one day, perhaps. But not quite today.

And so she finally allowed her quill to touch the parchment, and with it her thoughts quickly came tumbling out with surprising ease.

"_Hello, Stranger…"_


	2. Moonlight

Draco Malfoy paced back and forth in his room at Malfoy Manor. He'd never been so anxious in his life. Then again, he'd also never reached a breaking point like this in his life.

"Just write them back," he reasoned with himself out loud. "Just write them back and tell them you don't want to be a part of their stupid little program after all. You don't _really _want to be a part of a correspondence system. It was a mistake. A simple mistake."

Except it wasn't. And he full well knew that, as much as he did not want to admit it to his damn proud self at the moment. Was it a last resort action? Yes. A mistake? No.

Draco sighed as he quit pacing and sat on his bed, elbows resting on his knees and his face buried in his hands. How had it all come to this?

Life as a Malfoy had never been simple. He was born into a lifestyle where the very nature of how the way things were done went unquestioned. You act a certain way, and it's acceptable. No ifs ands or buts. There was no questioning authority with his parents, with his parents' friends, and especially not with the Death Eaters and Voldemort when they had been a part of his life.

And throughout all of that, throughout all of his years at Hogwarts and everything that happened after, there was always a part of himself that he had kept locked away. As much as it would kill Draco to admit it out loud, he knew he was different than the rest of his family. After all of those years trying to prove his worth to his parents, there had always been a part of him that knew it was all in vain.

He wasn't suited for the kind of life he had lived. Deep down inside, he had always pushed away questions he could never ask, ideas he could never share, and feelings he could never show.

Which was why he had submitted his name into the Hearts on the Line correspondence system last night. Because, for as long as it took for him to realize it, Draco simply needed someone to talk to.

At the time, the idea seemed like a good one. Most ideas formed in the middle of the night while intoxicated always seem better than they do in the middle of the day, anyway. But it was last night that Draco had finally reached the tipping point during an argument with his father. And he had never, ever spoken out against his father before. The argument was over a topic that Draco couldn't even recall, but the way his father was carrying on with a superior and smug attitude finally made Draco snap at him.

He ended up storming out of the house, a wrecking ball of emotions that were finally being released for what felt like the first time in all 20 years of his existence. And it felt good. It felt liberating.

Riding the emotional high he was currently on, Draco had turned up the hood of his cloak and barged into a magical pub in a small town on the outskirts of London. After a few firewhiskeys, he noticed the flyer for Hearts on the Line hanging on a bulletin board on the other side of the counter.

"'Scuse me," Draco tried hard not to slur his words as he summoned the attention of the bartender. "What's all that 'Heart' business about on that flyer there?"

"You haven't heard?" The young bartender, whose nametag read Jenny, asked. "It's the latest in post-war therapy. You ever heard of a pen pal system?"

Draco's look of utter confusion prompted the bartender to continue her explanation. "It's this thing where two people write letters back and forth to each other by owl. Only the big catch with this program here is that it's anonymous and all. Nobody knows who's who except the owl delivering the letters."

"Sounds like rubbish to me," Draco responded, taking another swig of what might have been his fifth or sixth firewhiskey. He wasn't exactly sure, and he didn't particularly care.

"Hey, don't knock it 'til you try it," the bartender shrugged. "My sister did it and you should've seen the difference. She lost her best friend during the Battle at Hogwarts. Completely shut her down. She never talked to anybody after the war. Then she started doing this letter thing and came around completely. Guess we all just need that someone who'll talk to us free of judgment, right?"

With that, the bartender grabbed a rag and started to wipe down the counters, leaving Draco to think about what she had just said. Her last few words were resonating through him like a shockwave. Is that what he had needed all along? Someone to talk to? Someone who would listen – _really _listen to him?

A friend?

And so under the cover of the moonlight, Draco submitted his contact information to Hearts on the Line as soon as he left the bar. Even in his inebriated state, he was concerned that people would recognize him and object to his involvement, but the flyer had said everything was completely anonymous. Only the owl would know who he was. And how bad could the program really be? What did he have to lose?

Of course it was only now, after having spent the majority of the afternoon pacing a hole into the floor of his bedroom, did he realize the potentially regretful consequences of his actions.

Draco slid his hands down his face and moaned, falling backwards onto the bed with a thud. Waking up to a killer hangover definitely had not put a positive outlook on his day, and he had spent the majority of it in his room consumed by his thoughts. How could he have been so careless? What would his parents say when a strange owl made regular trips to the manor to deliver him letters?

However, the biggest doubt nagging at his mind was that he wouldn't be able to go through with it. As much as he had wanted to, and for as long as he could remember, he had no experience sharing his sincere thoughts with another person. Could he really pour his heart and soul into a letter and send it to a stranger? Could he even talk about his life without fear of being judged? The more he mulled it over, the more he had started to think that he really should resign from the program. He felt stupid.

Just then, he heard a light tapping noise on his window. Startled by the noise, he jumped quickly off of his bed and looked towards his window in a panic. Outside was a tiny speckled owl. Not just any owl, but a carrier owl. With a letter in its beak…

"You've got to be kidding me," Draco deadpanned in a quiet voice to himself. He figured he'd have a good week to wrestle with his indecisiveness on this matter. Turned out life was making the decision for him right here and now.

Teeth clenched, as if he was bracing himself for some sort of impact, Draco unlocked the window and allowed the owl to hop inside his bedroom. It fluttered over to his desktop, where it dropped the letter and then began to groom itself.

Draco stood and stared first at the tiny owl, and then the letter on the desk. _Well, this is what you wanted Draco,_ he thought sarcastically to himself. _Might as well try and make the most of it since there's no going back now. _

He walked over to the desk, and carefully reached out his hand towards the owl. The owl noticed the movement and stopped grooming itself to inspect Draco. As if finding approval, the owl nudged his head against Draco's fingertips.

Draco smiled slightly and gave the tiny creature an affection pat on the head before averting his attention towards the letter. He pulled out the chair to his desk and sat down, cradling the letter in his hand like he had never seen such a thing before.

Draco carefully cut the top open with a letter cutter, pulled out the parchment, took a deep breath, unfolded the paper, and began to read.

_Hello, Stranger._

_I don't know where to begin this letter. There's so much I could write about, but I honestly don't know if I can. Perhaps I should start off with something a bit easier._

_The owl's name is Iggy. I've only had him for just today, but he seems to have a strong appetite for biscuits, as he broke into my entire tin before I had written three sentences of this letter to you. So that might be something to keep in mind when he's with you. _

This earned a small laugh from Draco, and he eased back into his chair to read the rest of the letter.

_Anyway, I don't exactly feel up to sharing my name with you, if that's alright. I wouldn't mind if that's how you felt as well. But in case you were wondering, I am a girl. I live alone in an apartment in London. You know that saying that goes something like "you can be alone, but not lonely"? Well, I think I'm both. I suppose I have a great deal of friends, but I haven't spoken with them in a while._

_There's a reason for that, but I don't know if I'm okay with sharing my story with you quite yet. It's nothing against you, really. I just haven't spoken with anyone about anything I've been going through. It might take time. I hope you've got a fair deal of patience in you. And if you don't, I apologize._

_So until we reach that point, I thought it might be best if I got to know a little more about you? I don't need to know anything you don't want me to. To be fair, I'll go first and tell you a little bit about myself._

_My favorite color is a deep blue. The kind of color the sky turns to a little after the sun sets and the moon is on the horizon. It calms me._

_My patronus is an otter, but I haven't been able to conjure it in almost a year._

_I used to be able to play the piano. I'm not sure if I still can or not, since I haven't in ages, but my favorite piece was 'Moonlight Sonata' by Beethoven. Have you ever heard it before? It has such a tragically beautiful sound to it, but I think that is what makes it so powerful._

_I look forward to getting to know more about you._

_Sincerely,_

_Your Heart on the Line._

_(That sounds odd, doesn't it? How about you call me J, for short? That's my middle initial)._

_Let's try this one more time:_

_Sincerely,_

_J._

Draco read the letter through once more, and then an inexplicable smile crossed his face for the briefest moment. Here, finally, for the first time in his life, he felt like someone cared. Cared enough to share a piece of their life with him, and even ask him to share a piece of his in return.

Running a hand through his blonde hair, he let out a deep breath he felt he had been holding his whole life.

Maybe this wasn't such a bad decision after all.


End file.
